


Caduceus

by Zombiiewrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Car Accidents, Fluff, Hospitals, M/M, Surgery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-21 11:56:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1549652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zombiiewrites/pseuds/Zombiiewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a car accident leaves Dean hospitalized, his recovery and internment is made better by an unexpected roommate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dazed and Confused

_"He's lost almost three pints of blood. Someone put pressure on that leg! He’s also got multiple lacerations and about a dozen visible punctures in the arms and torso."_

Fluorescent lights fanned overhead, partitioned by textured ceiling panels that brought back memories of grade school bungalows and visits to the pediatrician. The wheels of the gurney creaked and pivoted against the waxed floor as it was propelled through the halls and a set a double doors labeled  _"_ Intensive Care Unit" only to come to a jerking halt in a secluded, white room.

" _Prepping for surgery now. Nurse, confirm patient name. Winchester, Dean. Check file for any known allergies. Administering anesthesia in two minutes."_

The darkened silhouettes of the medical staff blurred and refocused sporadically while unseen hands pinched, tapped, and groped at his numbed limbs. He doubled his chin, pressing it to his sternum despite the oxygen mask strapped over his face, and watched through half lidded eyes as one of the nurses took a pair of scissors to his shirt, slicing it vertically and exposing the bruised and battered skin beneath.

“More trauma on the abdomen and chest. Possible broken rib and punctured lung,” the nurse acknowledged, hands hovering above the newly uncovered injuries.

“Wh-What...Where am I?” Dean asked, voice hoarse and muffled by the mask.

“You've been in a car accident, son. We've alerted your emergency contact. Just breathe,” a disembodied male voice responded.

_Zeppelin blasted through the speakers of the 1967 Chevy Impala, the music only challenged by the roar of the six-cylinder engine under the hood. With a heavy foot on the accelerator and fingers drumming against the steering wheel, the car barreled towards the upcoming turn on the two-way hillside, gradually slowing as it approached. It cleared the first curve with a satisfying shift only to be met with two blinding headlights upon reaching the second bend. The tires shrieked and smoked under the brakes, fingers now gripping the wheel tight and pulling hard to avoid a collision. The Impala swerved towards the jagged wall awkwardly, nearly going horizontal, causing the grill to spark and grate against the carved rock wall that lined the turn. Seconds later, the wrong way driver collided, the driver's side of the Impala taking the brunt of the impact. Crunching metal and burnt rubber permeated the otherwise still air while smoke bellowed beneath the chassis. The distorted blips of music still crackling through the speakers warbled through the sudden silence for what seemed an eternity, until they were dulled by the sound of nearby sirens and the side of the cliff was soon painted in a dizzying flurry of reds and blues._

“Doctor, name confirmed. Winchester, Dean. Twenty seven years old. No known allergies. Emergency contact has been notified of the situation but is located in Palo Alto, California,” another nurse chimed just as Dean began to teeter on the edge of unconsciousness.

“Good, put him under.” The knob on the canister twisted with a resistant squeak, flooding the mask with nitrous oxide. “Count with me, Dean,” the surgeon encouraged, counting down from ten at a uniform pace.

Dean checked out around six, weighted eyelids shutting as the gas enveloped into each muscle, delicately tugging at the seams of his consciousness and depressing every nerve until his senses lulled into a deep sleep.

The procedure had been meticulous but successful. The doctors removed several shards of glass that had been embedded into Dean's skin, stitching where necessary and applying styptic everywhere else. In addition to the obviously suffered broken leg, the nurse's conjectural diagnosis had been partially accurate: one fractured rib, but fortunately, his lungs remained intact. Despite his vitals rebounding quickly, there was some concern over his blood pressure following the surgery, but once it had been stabilized, he was transferred to recovery.

Due to the fragility of his rib, Dean remained sedated for the remainder of the morning. The nurses eased him out of it gradually, reducing the morphine drip every hour or so. He was moved again, to his permanent room, before he woke up from his medically induced slumber.

His body stirred long before his eyes opened, fingers twitching with subtle hints of consciousness and toes curling beneath the cotton sheets. The pulse oximeter clamped loosely around his index finger clicked against the metal of the bedside railing when he began to paw blindly at his surroundings. These erratic bouts of activity continued for the better part of an hour, steadily building in both strength and clumsiness until the rest of his body caught up.

Wrinkles formed at the corners of his eyes as he screwed them shut, eyebrows raising and lowering marginally and eyes twitching behind closed lids before flickering to life. His vision was cloudy, edges darkening while worm-like mirages somersaulted in his peripherals and eventually dissolved. The tubes that had been fed down his trachea during the surgery left his throat arid and inflamed, making his face contort uncomfortably with each resistant swallow. He blew out focused, calculated breaths through his lips, each dramatic intake of air inflating his chest while simultaneously quickening his previously tranquil heartbeat. The faint beeping of the cardiac monitor pierced his ears first, muting intermittently in rolling waves as he slowly came to, followed by the rumble of a dampened voice.

"Seriously, stop sending call boys to visit me in the hospital," Castiel piped, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers simply because he couldn't believe the words had even had to be said. "You know what normal people do when a family member is in the hospital, Gabe? They send flowers, they send cards. Not escorts," he continued, unsuccessfully stifling a laugh when Gabriel mentioned that he would have invited the cast of  _Thunder from Down Under_ to his funeral if he had died on the operating table. "That is...so, so wrong on so many levels," Cas snorted, dragging a hand over his tired face and settling back against the pillows. "Okay, but I mean it," he swallowed the giddiness of their conversation and held the phone between his shoulder and ear while absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on his hospital gown, "no more guys. It's weird and unsanitary and...a waste." He spoke firmly in an attempt to get his point across but sighed defeatedly when his brother dismissed his order entirely and began to ramble on--something about sending over twins next time. 

"You're impossible," Castiel stated with a shake of his head. "I'm hanging up now," he warned, voice laced with a combination of annoyance and playfulness. 

The receiver anchored with a clack after a brief goodbye but the faintest smile still lingered on Cas' lips even once he'd hung up. Gabriel, the closest of his four brothers, had called him nearly every day since his admission into the ICU. While he appreciated that gesture, he couldn't say the same about the "care packages" he'd been sending over. 

Castiel snapped from his reverie upon hearing the weak groans and borderline whimpering coming from the neighboring bed. Had it not been for the steady beep of Dean's monitors and the fact that he had seen the nurses wheel the guy in, he probably wouldn't have even known he had a roommate up until that point. Realizing this was probably the first time he'd woken up since his procedure, Cas reached for his remote control, which doubled as a call button, and summoned the nurse. "Hold on, buddy. Nurse is on the way," Cas let out from behind the curtain, a small smile gracing his lips when Dean's pained sounds subsided and were replaced with a breathless,  _'thank you.'_

He eavesdropped shamelessly as the medical staff filed in and began their post-surgical assessment, starting with the ever so helpful pain chart. Castiel outwardly cringed when they began listing off the multitude of injuries his roommate suffered, which he now knew was from a car accident--the splintered tibia being the worst of them. The rest of the post-op exam consisted of a short Q&A, which Dean answered mostly through grunts and clumsy hand gestures, and a brief rundown of all of his machines and how to work the television. 

Naturally, Dean tuned most of it out up until they mentioned Sam.

"Your brother, a Sam Winchester, has been notified," they reassured while readjusting the bed somewhat so that Dean's cast covered leg remained firmly elevated. Satisfied, the nurses pulled open the curtain and made their way out of the room, only stopping to scribble some notes on the whiteboard before disappearing down the hall. 

Castiel's eyes darted from the doorway to the adjacent bed, rounding ever so slightly in surprise of what he found there. Dean, even all bruised and beaten, was unforgivably handsome. 

Despite the contusions and discoloration beneath his eyes, the stitch above his eyebrow, and the red splotches littering his cheeks and what skin wasn't covered his hospital gown, he looked to be in decent shape--especially for a guy who had nearly bled out on the side of the road just a day earlier. Of course, most of the more serious injuries were either not visible or encased in plaster. 

"Did I...Were you talking about call boys a few minutes ago or am I that high right now?" Dean asked hoarsely; bewildered and debilitated, but alert.

Cas blinked out of his trance at the abrupt question and paused for a moment to register it before he felt his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. "Ah, well...probably both. My brother thought it would be funny to send the--you know what, nevermind," Castiel sighed and waved it off dismissively before looking over at Dean again who was finally beginning to wake up. "I'm Castiel," he introduced, flashing his roommate a sympathetic smile. 

Dean rubbed circles against his eyes with his palms and slumped back against the pillows, posture languid but eyes open. "I'm..." he paused and actually fumbled on his own name, partially due to the drugs but mostly due to the brilliant blue eyes staring back at him. "I'm Dean," he recovered shortly after, brandishing a charming smile of his own. He gave the brunette a not-so-subtle once over, emerald eyes following the curve of his jaw all the way down to where his waist disappeared beneath the sheets. "So, what are you in for?" Dean asked, cleverly disguising his audacity as curiosity. 

"I let the bus go under fifty miles per hour and my appendix exploded," Castiel let out bluntly, pausing briefly to muse over the fact that he had just made a  _Speed_ reference. Fortunately, Dean humored him with a shallow laugh and a tired smile. "What about you?" Cas inquired, already knowing the gist of it but interested in hearing it from Dean's perspective.

"Ouch," Dean replied, attention now focused on the IV pinned into his inner arm. "I was apparently in a car accident. It's kind of hazy still. Shit, I hope my baby is okay," he sighed, taking his lower lip between his teeth. It wasn't until he caught the slightly horrified look on Castiel's face that he realized he'd said that aloud. "Baby....as in, the car...not an actual baby," he quickly clarified. 

"Oh. That's...slightly less disturbing, I suppose," Cas teased, suppressing a smile when Dean's cheeks darkened. "Well, people don't usually dish out pet names unless it's something special. What kind of car are we talking?" Castiel asked, eyebrows piqued in interest. 

"Sixty-seven Impala. She's a beauty. Not a cheap date by any means but more than worth it," Dean laughed weakly, breathing deep before hoisting himself a little further up in bed. The slight exertion made his eyes squeeze shut and knocked the wind out of him but up until that point, he'd been so entranced with their conversation he'd almost forgotten about the pain. The little laugh Castiel let out in response to his flattery brought him back. 

"Sounds like quite the catch," Castiel smiled over at him, all teeth and pink gums, and continued, "my cousin drives a fifty-nine Cadillac hard top, so I know your type."

Dean's eyes seemed to brighten at the mention of the Cadillac--it wasn't his style but he could talk cars all day. "Uh huh, and what's my type, exactly?" He could also flirt until his tongue fell off. 

"Car guys," Castiel sighed, still smiling sweetly, "where do I start?" He shifted so that he was sitting up, bracing his hand over his stomach, and leaned deep into the pillows behind his back. "Stubborn, rough, yet surprising attention to detail in and out of the garage; slightly obsessive compulsive, patient. I could go on if you want," Castiel offered, a thin lipped smile resting on his idle expression. 

"So, did you learn that all at Community College or..." Dean cut himself off with a smile when Castiel laughed and rolled his eyes. They spent a few minutes going back and forth after Castiel had essentially dissected Dean's personality to the core, talking it over briefly before shifting gears back to their current situations. 

Dean was uneasily looking forward to at least three weeks of recovery time in the hospital while Cas would probably be out closer to two, since he had been admitted a couple of days prior and the nature of his stay wasn't as severe. Though the reasons for their admittance were dramatically different, both circumstances required a close eye and round the clock care. 

The hospital wasn't a very desirable place; between the interrupted sleep, grouchy night nurses, and half frozen dinners, it could make vagabond homesick. However that night, while Castiel fell asleep counting the soft snores falling from Dean's parted lips, it felt a little less lonely. 


	2. Good Times Bad Times

"Okay, now do two," Castiel insisted, staring at Dean with a grin while his hands squeezed together apprehensively. 

Dean glanced at the second happy face on the pain chart and huffed out a laugh at the ridiculous expression before attempting to mimic it. He lifted his eyebrows slightly and plastered the most ridiculously pained smile on his face, barely even able to hold it for more than a few seconds before bursting out with a contagious laughter. Castiel snorted once and smiled as Dean picked up the chart and pointed to the next face over. "Your turn. Number four," Dean let out, twisting his neck to get a better view of Cas from his bed. 

"That face," Castiel could barely get the words out through his laughter, "it looks like he just found out he had a son." He smiled more when Dean chuckled and had to run a hand over his face just to collect himself. "Okay, okay," Cas said calmly, swallowing deep and taking another quick look at the laminated chart. His brow dropped significantly to match expression on the fourth face while his lips pursed into an impossibly straight line and his eyes widened. 

"You  _are_ the father!" Dean exclaimed, laughing and grinning toothily when Cas' composure melted. 

"Fuck, okay. One more," Cas breathed through his out laughter, wrapping his arms around his stomach and arching forward. "You're going to open my stitches," he groaned playfully, barely able to breathe when Dean got around to making the number ten face, his eyebrows sloped dramatically and his face reddening as he plastered on a scowl that could rival Judge Dredd's. 

"Is that how you looked when you stumbled into the ER?" Dean questioned breaking character, his own smile widening when he caught a glimpse of Castiel's beaming face. 

Dean knew that the morphine-vicodin cocktails they were both sipping probably contributed to their uncontrollable laughter but no amount of pain medication could justify the fleeting feeling of happiness swelling in his gut; it could only amplify it. Castiel had made the past few days unbelievably comfortable. He was patient when Dean would fall asleep mid conversation on account of the high antihistamine count in his medication. He always reminded him when Top Gear was on. He helped adjust his leg and pillows so Dean didn't have to summon the angry night nurse. Most importantly, he shared his cherry turnover even though Dean was technically still on a liquid diet; by that point, Dean was convinced that Castiel was literally an angel sent from heaven. 

It had been three days since he had woken up and though the pain was undeniably prevalent, Dean had spent more time smiling and laughing than bitching and griping. Sam had called to check up at least once a day and reassured Dean he'd be on his way immediately after his last midterm. While Dean protested, saying that he didn't want him to waste his Spring Break in a hospital, Sam didn't leave much room for argument by the end of their short phone call--then again, arguing was essentially what he was studying in school so it shouldn't have come as much of a surprise. 

Castiel looked up from his book at the sound of two quick knocks, his eyes immediately drawn to the gargantuan man standing in the doorway.

 "Oh, I'm sorry. I was looking for my brother," he let out, making a slightly panicked face before glancing at the number at the door, "he said he was in two o' two." Before Cas could respond, Dean's voice sounded from behind the bathroom door. 

"Hey, Sammy! You're in the right place. I'll be out in a minute...after I'm done getting the  _coldest_ spongebath ever known to man," Dean responded, practically glaring through his tone. 

"Oh! You're Sam? Wow, wouldn't have known you guys were brothers," Castiel commented, noting the dissimilarities between the two siblings immediately, "you're so tall." 

"Can it, Cas," Dean boomed from the bathroom, making both Sam and Castiel glance towards the closed door and snicker quietly. 

"I'm Castiel," Cas introduced, sitting up as painlessly as he could and extending his hand to Sam. 

"Sam Winchester," Sam replied with a smile, shaking the other's hand delicately before pulling up a chair between Cas' bed and Dean's empty one. "Twelve Angry Men?" Sam quirked an eyebrow and nodded towards the book now resting on Castiel's lap. 

"Oh, yeah. Caught the movie on TV earlier this week...figured I'd read the book as well," Castiel explained, patting the paperback with a loose smile. "You're in school for law, right?" Castiel questioned confidently. "Your brother talks about you a lot," he explained, smiling wider when Sam lowered his head and smiled bashfully. 

"Yeah, I'm up at Stanford right now. Probably wouldn't be if it weren't for him," he let out, mumbling the last part thoughtfully. Before Castiel could verbalize his curiosity at that, the bathroom door opened. Out of courtesy to Dean, Castiel shut the curtain around Sam and himself and waited until Dean was situated. The nurse, a surly looking heavyset man, wheeled Dean through the door clumsily and around Castiel's bed before literally scooping him out of the chair and placing him back onto his bed. After a brief moment of double checking his machines and suspending his leg, he made his way out.

Dean tugged open the curtain and peered in, a giant closed-lip smile spreading over his lips at the sight of his brother. Sam responded with a sort of breathless laugh--something mixed between relief and happiness--and stood up to pull the curtain open the rest of the way. He hunched over to give Dean a hug, trying to be mindful of the broken rib but failing miserably due to his size. 

"Ow--fuck, Sammy. You're like the goddamn Hulk, I swear," Dean grunted out painfully, returning his brother's embrace nonetheless and patting his back lightly. 

"Don't be such a baby," Sam replied, smiling even as he pulled back. He took a moment to survey the damage, staring with the fading bruises and scratches that littered Dean's face and neck and ending with the plaster cast around his leg. "Wow, I'm giving up seeing Jess in a bikini every day for this?" Sam teased, resting one hand on his hip and touching Dean's cast with the other. "At least you shaved for me," Sam joked with a hearty laugh, figuring they probably had had to shave his leg for the surgery but loving the reactions he got from his brother regardless. 

Castiel smiled at the two brothers, silently enjoying their back and forth while picking his book back up with the intention of reading while they caught up. Dean, however, had different plans. 

"Did you meet Cas?" Dean panicked inwardly, wondering if he sounded as eager as he thought he did.  "He, uh, had an appendectomy. Remember when you had yours?" Dean explained, hoping he could disguise his interest in talking about his roommate as something relatable. "I thought you were faking it when you woke me up and said you needed to go to the hospital. I think  you were--what? Eight?" Dean continued, squinting his eyes pensively. 

"I was thirteen, Dean," Sam corrected.

"Eight. Thirteen. You're still in diapers as far as I'm concerned," Dean replied, crossing his arms over his chest and maneuvering the trio of wires there until they laid comfortably over his forearm. 

Castiel only smiled when Sam rolled his eyes defeatedly and slumped back in his chair. "So, Dean mentioned midterms were this week?" Cas inferred, "how'd they go?" 

Sam paused, internalizing his curiosity over what confused him more--that Dean had apparently relayed their entire phone call to his roommate or the way Dean was staring at said roommate. It wasn't a bad thing by any means; Sam just couldn't remember the last time Dean had actually looked at something, or someone for that matter, like that other than the Impala.

"They went really well, actually. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little bit preoccupied with all of this but I've still got the rest of the semester," Sam replied with a faint smile, glancing between the two men but ultimately settling on Cas, "What do you do, Castiel?" 

"I'm a social worker. Not nearly as exciting as practicing law," he looked towards Dean with a pursed smile, "or being a mechanic, but it suits me, I suppose." Castiel rested his hands over his stomach, as he often did following his surgery, and parted his lips to speak up again but was promptly cut off by a knock at the door. 

"Mr. Winchester, we're here to take you down to the lab for your X-ray. See how that leg's healing up," one of the two nurses said with a kind smile. "It should only take about a half hour," she added, taking note of Sam; he was the first visitor Dean had got since his admission and she wasn't about to send him away. 

Sam shrugged when he and Dean exchanged glances, "I'll hang out. Go do what you have to do," Sam reassured, shutting his eyes when Dean tousled his hair as he was wheeled out, leaving him and Cas alone. 

Cas humored him with some small talk--some questions about his flight over mostly--but ultimately reverted back to the conversation they were having earlier. 

"Forgive me for prying but what did you mean when you said you probably wouldn't be in school if it weren't for Dean?" Castiel phrased the question delicately, hoping he was not overstepping his boundaries. 

Sam stiffened visibly and eyed Cas thoughtfully, contemplating the repercussions of his answer only briefly before confiding in the blue eyed man. "Dean has been taking care of me since I was a kid," Sam started, omitting the part about their deadbeat father, "and not much has changed, as you can see." A sad smile spread over his lips as he reminisced quietly, "Dean worked really hard to get me my first year's tuition at Stanford. While I was balancing a ton of AP classes during my senior year of high school, he was at the shop day and night, working. That's just the kind of guy he is, though. You know? I, uh, owe him a lot." Sam huffed out a laugh and leaned forward, clasping his hands together and draping them between his knees. "Brothers," the younger Winchester sighed contently, shaking his head, "do you have any siblings?" 

Castiel found himself smiling more and more as Sam rambled on about his brother, watching the subtle peaks of his laugh lines when he smiled and the expressive lift and lower of his brow. Given his profession, it wasn't difficult to put two and two together even though Sam had neglected to mention anything regarding their parents. Big brother taking little brother under his wing wasn't as rare of a scenario as one might have thought but that didn't make it any less endearing. 

"I do. Five of them--four brothers and a sister," Cas responded, chuckling faintly at the look of surprise plastered on Sam's face after his admittance. "Yeah, big family. Everyone is pretty dispersed, you know, now that we're older. Anna travels a lot for work, Luci lives down South. We meet up for holidays and all that good stuff but..." he trailed off and waved his hand dismissively, "it must be weird being away from your brother, though. Considering it's just the two of you." 

"Well, three, I guess. If we're counting. Dad is still around. He just isn't great company these days," Sam expressed bitterly, not wanting to open the door too wide but giving Cas a glimpse. "I don't really know why I'm surprised he hasn't visited Dean yet," he added with a sort of exhausted laugh and disappointed shake of his head. 

Cas' eyes saddened some as he read over Sam's body language habitually, taking note of the look of borderline disgust that crossed his previously happy features at the mere mention of his father. Before he could reply, Sam interjected again in an attempt to steer the conversation back his way. Apparently, avoiding confrontation ran in the family. 

"So an appendectomy, huh? That's rough," the younger Winchester let out, doing his best not to sound scripted. 

"Yeah, probably another week or so in here," Cas confirmed, pressing his chin to his chest to gaze down at his stomach. "How long are you in town for, Sam?" 

"Well, break is two weeks. I'm hoping Dean will be out by then so I can make sure he is situated at home before heading back," Sam replied, dragging a hand over his mouth thoughtfully.

The two of them talked the entire time Dean was gone, which ended up closer to an hour and a half than the half hour the nurse had projected. They covered everything from Sam's four-year college plan to why Castiel's parents had opted to name one of his brothers Lucifer, only shifting their attention when Dean was rolled back in. 

"Gentlemen," Dean let out, deepening his voice and trying to keep a straight face as he tugged the curtain shut again so he could get situated. 

Sam ended up staying for another two hours or so, playing catch up with his brother and decorating his cast in poorly drawn doodles, mostly flowers and one fucked up looking unicorn. However, when he sensed Dean's fatigue setting in, he decided to take his leave. 

"Hey, Sammy," Dean murmured just as his little brother stood from his seat. "Go see dad, yeah? Even if it's just for a little while," he added, keeping his tone neutral for the most part. 

"Yeah," Sam sighed reluctantly, unable to deny the puppy dog eyes--intentional or not--that Dean was currently giving him. The fact that he was strung up and connected to more wires than an extension cord definitely made it harder to say no. "Cas, drop me a line if anything changes," Sam reminded, having given Castiel his phone number earlier for that reason alone since Dean's cell phone had not made it through the accident and the nurses updates weren't as regular as he would have liked. 

"Your brother is nice," Castiel acknowledged quietly once it was just the two of them again, shifting slightly onto his side to face Dean. He smiled to himself, noting the seemingly permanent smile Dean had been wearing since Sam arrived and the weight of his eyelids as they threatened to close. 

"He's a good kid," Dean yawned and turned his cheek into the pillow, smile widening when he saw Cas staring back. "What'd you guys talk about, anyways?" he asked, voice groggy and curiosity piqued. 

"You, mostly," Cas answered easily.

That certainly got Dean's attention. Despite the medication beginning to kick in, he reopened his eyes and peered up, a little more alert this time around. 

Sensing the slight distress on his roommate's face, Cas laughed through his nose and reassured him, "don't worry. He didn't show me any baby pictures." Castiel paused and pieced through the bits of Sam and his conversation before speaking up again. "We talked about school and how he wouldn't be there without your help," he explained, reaching to place the book that was still at his side onto the nightstand between their beds. Though the room was darkened now, save for the last light of the evening still clinging through the opened blinds, there was an obvious change in Dean's expression and overall demeanor--something crossed between discomfort and agitation. 

"Remind me never to leave you two alone together again," Dean sighed, attempting to dilute his obvious uneasiness with humor. 

"...and we talked about your dad," Cas finished, nearly flinching when he caught sight of Dean's jaw clenching and his eyes narrowing into a glare. 

"We're not having this conversation," Dean blurted out immediately, that irked stare now fixated on Castiel. "Might have worked on Sam but I'm not falling for that social worker crap, Cas," he grunted, immediately going on the defensive and only realizing how harsh he'd been when he saw Cas' expression fall so brutally. However, in total Dean Winchester fashion, rather than trying to remedy things right there and then, he proceeded to dig himself in deeper by wordlessly shutting the curtain between them for the first time since they'd shared a room. 

Castiel blinked, opening his mouth a few times to speak up and say something but ultimately shutting it and dropping his head to the pillow with a huff. He found himself staring at the curtain several times that night in the hours between their tiff and when he finally gave into the exhaustion, unaware that Dean was staring right back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Please comment and leave feedback! I will update as frequently as I can. Shout out to tumblr user distantwhenbeckoning for the awesome editing and suggestions.


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